


Memory, As Sharp as a Whip

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [61]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 09:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: Byakuya wakes up after sex with Renji. When he covers Renji's sleeping body with his grandfather's kimono, Byakuya is flooded with memories of the past.





	Memory, As Sharp as a Whip

Byakuya wasn’t sure what woke him: the heavy heat of Renji’s body sprawled on top of him, or the snuffling, snorting snores in his ear. Byakuya shifted slightly to relieve both.

The sun had slipped down near the horizon. Byakuya calculated that it must be nearing the dinner hour. Even in the muted light, Renji’s hair that spilled onto the tatami glowed like fresh blood. The dark slashes of ink on his skin reminiscent of the markings of some wild animal. No, Renji wouldn’t like that comparison--he was only part tiger. The rest was tanuki, baboon, and snake. Not an animal at all, but a demon.

Byakuya idly stroked Renji’s hair. _Demon, yes._

Only a demon could possess hair this color… and a body this fine. Fingers strayed to shoulder muscles, splayed as they were across Byakuya’s torso. There were goosebumps freckled across Renji’s exposed skin. Ah, no wonder he hugged Byakuya so closely. He must be freezing! 

Carefully pulling himself from Renji’s embrace, Byakuya divested himself of his grandfather’s kimono--the first few layers, at any rate. As he went to cover Renji, the silver kimono flapped in just a way that Byakuya’s heart thumped hard against his chest. 

An image flashed, unbidden, in his mind’s eye: the wildflower silk. 

Had he, not so long ago, covered Renji’s broken and bleeding body much like this? Yes. Yes, and the precious silk had meant to be a shroud. An honor for the dead, the worthy opponent fallen in battle. Byakuya would not have walked away, if he thought Renji had lived.

Yet… by some miracle, this demon had lived.

“Thank the gods,” Byakuya breathed, as he knelt to tuck the edges of the kimono around Renji’s broad shoulders. Byakuya’s hand stayed on Renji’s back until he felt him breathe, as if checking that this wasn’t all just some fever dream, and Renji lay dead in the courtyard. 

Foolish, Byakuya admonished himself, yet was still comforted. He stood up, intending to find a bath and change into something more comfortable. First, he thought he should leave Renji a note. Pulling paper, ink, and a brush from his desk, Byakuya quickly scribbled:

> Beloved,

The hand that held the brush hovered mid-air, as though shocked by its own action. “Beloved”? What had compelled Byakuya to write that? Should he perhaps correct it? Go with the more standard Dear Renji?

No, if ‘Beloved’ was what came naturally, then Byakuya would let it stand. He continued:

> I would have woken you, but I’m sure you’re exhausted from your ordeal at the Second. When you awake, if I am not in the bath, you can find me in the library. I will delay dinner until you join me, so that we may eat together.
> 
> Love,  
>  Byakuya

Byakuya tucked the note under Zabimaru where Renji would be sure to find it. One last fond glance showed Renji curled tightly under the kimono, snoring softly. Byakuya wondered if he'd made a mistake promising to delay dinner. Perhaps Renji would sleep the night away. If that was the case, he should be sure to have Eishirō check on him and perhaps bring along one of the down comforters.

And a pillow.

Though it never seemed to bother Renji to sleep on the floor. Meanwhile, even after only these few hours, Byakuya’s neck ached from having been in an awkward position. Perhaps Renji ached, too, but simply never mentioned it. Byakuya used to think that Renji’s previous life had made him impervious to pain, but, upon reflection, it seemed that instead it made him loathe to complain. Perhaps, Renji kept his hurt hidden due to growing up always seeing others suffering the same way... or worse.

With the sigh of knowing he could hardly unravel the mysteries of such a man by staring for hours at his sleeping body, Byakuya quietly slipped out the door. 

He’d hoped to gather up his bath things and something new to wear without much fuss, but Byakuya had forgotten the late hour… and the excitement of the preparations for the hostages. Servants that normally stuck to the backways and hidden passages scurried through the hallways. Byakuya was made acutely aware of his state of half-dress, when eyes widened or hands quickly covered mouths, before they bowed deeply as he passed. Several bolder servants wondered, “Is my lord quite alright? Is there something I can fetch his lordship? Something to cover up?”

Good heavens, it wasn’t like he was naked! He stifled the urge to brush them off irritatedly or to snap. Instead, he said, “I would like a bath. Perhaps someone could bring my things and a change of clothes?”

“Oh, yes of course,” the servant brightened. “Good timing, my lord.”

Good timing? Byakuya shrugged off that odd response. Perhaps the servant simply meant that they were between jobs and thus had time to take care of the matter immediately. 

“Excellent,” Byakuya agreed and veered toward the sento.

Eishirō met him at the entrance to the garden path. He held out a simple haori. With a deep bow and a wry smile, Eishirō said, “Your casual attire has been scandalizing the household, m’lord.”

“Indeed,” Byakuya said as he allowed Eishirō to place the haori over his shoulders. 

After adjusting the haori, Eishirō slyly asked, “May I ask what happened to your grandfather’s kimono?”

Byakuya almost replied ‘you may not,’ but decided Eishirō’s question was concern for the heirloom’s state of disrepair, nothing more. “Acting Captain Abarai is sleeping under it in the study. If you wish to retrieve it from him, he will need pillows and comforters in exchange.”

“Understood, my lord,” Eishirō said, falling into step behind Byakuya with another deep bow. 

Was that a bit of humor in his tone? If it was, that surprised Byakuya. He would have thought Eishirō would be more... judgmental?... no, they were beyond that, but at least irritated, especially of an activity that involved difficult to remove stains. “You’ve grown fond of Renji?”

“You know I have,” Eishirō agreed. “No one can replace our Lady Hisana, but the Acting Captain is, as she was, clearly good for your soul, my lord. You seem to bear the world lighter when he is at your side.”

Byakuya huffed a little appreciative laugh. Such a lovely image. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Eishirō?”

They had made it through the garden to the master’s entrance of the hot springs. Eishiro bowed again and offered the basket of toiletries to Byakuya. “Ah,” he smiled, “If only that were true in my own life, I would not be on a second wife, myself.”

Accepting the basket, Byakuya nodded absently. Of course he remembered Eishirō’s first wife, vividly, as she was the one to discover himself and the stable boy. However, Byakuya could not remember the name of the ‘new’ wife--or even what she looked like. Surely he’d met her in the intervening years. He would’ve had to have approved their marriage, as he must all the servants’, if nothing else. Still, nothing came to him, other than that he was fairly certain she was employed as a chambermaid. “Please pass along my blessings to her…” and then, suddenly remembering, Byakuya added, “And to your son, Yuu.”

Eishirō’s eyebrows raised, as if shocked. But then he smiled and bowed very deeply, “Yes, of course, my lord. Thank you.”

With that, Eishirō left Byakuya to enter the sento. 

It was late enough in the afternoon that Byakuya decided not to risk the outdoor shower. Though the alcove was designed for maximum privacy, there were just too many servants dashing about for Byakuya to be entirely comfortable stripping outside. Besides, despite the plum blossoms beginning to unfurl, the spring air held a decidedly sharp nip. Leaving his sandals outside, Byakuya opened the door to step inside.

Only to be met with a sharp shriek from the other side of the half wall. “I am Kuchiki!” There was thunderous splashing and a woman’s shrill voice, “This bath is closed to the public!”

“Aunt Masama?” Byakuya had half-jumped back out over the threshold at the screech, but now took a cautious step back inside. “It’s only me.”

“Bya-chan?”

“Byakuya,” he said, correcting the cutesy-nickname automatically. “Yes, auntie, it’s Byakuya.” 

Carefully shutting the door, he picked his way along the wet tiles to the indoor showers. 

“You’re alone?” Her disembodied voice echoed off the curved ceiling. 

“Yes. Are you?” It wouldn’t be unusual for her to have brought along a servant or a lady-in-waiting, though she travelled with fewer of the latter now that Byakuya had appointed an heir and taken himself off the list of ‘eligible bachelors/widowers.’ 

Quickly divesting himself of the last layers of kimono, Byakuya shoved the silks into the basket of things needing laundering. 

“Quite,” she sniffed. “You’ve left your barbarian companion unattended somewhere, then?”

The number of insults about Renji in her statement to counter overwhelmed him, so Byakuya responded passive-aggressively by saying nothing at all, and, instead, turning on the showerhead. It really was rather difficult to discern any words that followed, particularly when his head was completely under the water. Unfortunately, it was only then, when his hair was soaked, that he realized he’d neglected to remove the new white jade-and-bone hairpiece. Cursing silently, he turned off the shower and wrestled the chains from stubborn locks with the loss of only a few dozen hairs.

“Are you alright?” Auntie’s voice held an annoying sort of genuine concern. Probably she had heard him curse, despite his best efforts.

“I caught my hair in something,” he replied. Pulling a few hairs from the tangled chains, Byakuya set the offending hairpiece on top of his clean clothes. Probably he should get use to wearing it. It would be the only symbol of his rank, now that Shinobu wore the kenseikan. 

Shinobu.

Damn it. Shinobu must not head off to court!

Dashing to the nearest servants’ bell, Byakuya gave it an urgent tug. At the same time, he did the necessary Kidō to summon a Hell butterfly, “To Kuchiki Shinobu and Captain Kyōraku Shunsui from Kuchiki Byakuya--”

“Bya-chan, what are you doing?”

“Could you hush a moment?” Byakuya snapped. Then, taking a calming breath added, “We must make sure Shinobu does not leave for court today as planned. In fact, he should probably stay away for at least for a few months until the hostage situation is settled.”

“What hostages?”

Byakuya pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes to pray for patience. “We have ended the clan war by taking hostage of the families of those who have moved against us. It is a bloodless, traditional solution. I will hear no argument.”

For a moment, all Byakuya heard was the gurgle of the hot springs. Then, a quiet, almost disbelieving, “Nor will you. It’s brilliant.”

He had to swallow back a childish, ‘you really think so?’ Instead, he waved the Hell butterfly off. The essence of the message was there, after all. As the butterfly made its way out, Byakuya lowered himself into the hot water. The heat penetrated deep into muscle, relaxing him. Closing his eyes, Byakuya tilted his head back until it rested against the lip of the basin.

“You are your father’s son,” Masama’s voice bounced off the walls, sounding as if it were coming from all directions. Before Byakuya could wonder if she meant that as an insult, she added, “Hostages. My father--your grandfather--would never have thought of it. Nor my husband, either. The stories in the history books that they admired were those of daring samurai and their endless bloodshed.” She seemed to consider this for a moment. “They were kings. They should have studied emperors.” 

Byakuya’s eyes flicked open at her last words. He could not think of a time when anyone in his family had ever praised him, much less so highly. Smarter than the hallowed Ginrei? Unreal. Yet it was such a Masama praise--detracting the virtues of the noble samurai as unworthy of Kuchiki. Yet, he could understand how she reached that conclusion. Ginrei did love his samurai stories. When grandfather had taken over the bedtime routine after father’s death, there were no more wild adventures of Admiral Seaweed, only instructive, moral tales of brave and honorable samurai. To Ginrei, being the perfect samurai was paramount.

Koga… Byakuya had fewer memories of his ill-fated uncle, Masama’s husband. Koga had a kind of fierce strength that had secretly terrified an impressionable, grieving child. Byakuya had wanted to love his uncle, but his memories were tangled up in seeing his father’s kenseikan on another--a man, Ginrei claimed, who was to be the “antidote” to Sajin’s weakness.

According to Ginrei, Byakuya was meant to learn from Koga how to not be like his father… at a time and an age when Byakuya was so terribly desperate to hold his father’s memory sacred. He wanted to be his father, or better yet to have him back from the dead, not have him replaced by someone the complete opposite.

But, initially Koga was the golden child, the heir apparent, the ‘new blood’ that the Kuchiki clan so desperately needed.

Then, seemingly in an instant, Koga was disgraced; his name struck not only from the family record, but from all of the Soul Society’s records. It was as if he never existed.

Byakuya had been away--exiled after the stable boy incident, in fact--when Koga moved against the Gotei, against the clan. He still didn’t entirely understand what had happened, not exactly. All he knew, he knew from rumors. The biggest most whispered rumor being that it had been Head Captain Yamamoto and Ginrei Kuchiki who had sealed Koga away, somewhere, forever. 

Alive, but entombed.

For centuries.

Despite the heat of the sento, Byakuya shivered. He couldn’t say that he liked Koga very much, but fate had treated him more than a little unkindly, all the same. Worse, Koga’s shame had caused the clan to close ranks, to despise all outsiders, even those Kuchiki who married in. It was because of Koga that Rukia got no quarter from the clan. Any taint of treason or hint of criminality, especially from those not of Kuchiki blood, was not tolerated. 

Uphold the law no matter the cost.

It might as well be the Kuchiki crest--though it had never done them any good. Byakuya let out a long, slow sigh. “Had we not been the first keepers of the law, do you think Koga would have been treated more kindly?”

The silence from the other side of the wall was so pervasive Byakuya thought, perhaps, Aunt Masama might have left the hot springs. 

“Nothing could have saved him from his own insanity, his own paranoia,” Masama said quietly. “Though I do wish…” 

She paused and Byakuya sat up, straining to hear over the drips and gurgles of the hot springs. She seemed on the verge of taking a breath, of finishing her thought, when the door slid open and Renji stuck his head in. Hair down and with grandfather’s kimono draped over his broad, otherwise naked shoulders, Renji smiled, “Hey, there you are!”

“Renji,” Byakuya tried not to sound disappointed, but he could hear the splashes of Masama taking her leave on the other side of the wall. What had she been about to say? What did she hope for her husband? Did even she, who followed tradition and law so closely, wish that the Soul Society had better trials, rules---

A shriek cut through the air, making Byakuya jump to his feet.

“You dare!” Masama yelled. “Remove that kimono from your filthy body, Rukongai dog! Such fine Kuchiki silk should never touch the likes of you!”

Ah. 

Masama must have stood up to leave, and for some reason, turned, despite etiquette, to see over the sento’s half-wall. 

Renji, meanwhile, reacted immediately, guiltily. Though, it seemed, more in response to the sound of a female voice, rather than what was said. He reached to cover his naked chest and simultaneously dropped to the floor, which, of course, only ended with himself and the ‘precious’ war kimono landing in a pool of condensation. Byakuya couldn’t help but chuckle at Renji’s frantic antics. He still seemed to be looking around for the source of the voice, and so Byakuya said, “Renji, it’s only Aunt Masama,” turning so that his voice would carry to the other side, he added, “Who should not be looking over the wall, at any rate.”

“Why is that beast wearing my father’s kimono, Byakuya? You wouldn’t have been so foolish as to gift it to him!?”

“Auntie,” Byakuya said patiently to the wall, “The kimono barely fits my shoulders, it would look like doll’s clothing on Renji. If Ginrei’s war kimono goes anywhere, it will be to the scrap pile.”

That seemed to cause her to become speechless, at least. Turning back to Renji, Byakuya held out a hand. “Are you coming in, love?”

“I should shower,” Renji said, pulling himself upright. “And I did kinda wonder what I was supposed to do with this.”

“Put it in the laundry with the rest of it,” Byakuya suggested. But, then the thought of his own father struck him and their talk of Koga and he softened, adding, “But it is clearly precious to my lady aunt. We will be sure to have it cleaned and added to her stores.”

Through the curtain of red hair, Renji frowned slightly, drawing the dark lines of forehead tattoos together, but nodded. Dusting off the kimono the best he could, Renji dropped it into the basket before heading for the showers. He wasn’t wearing much--only his hakama, which Byakuya shamelessly watched him remove. If the staff had been scandalized by Byakuya’s state of half-dress, what must they thought of Renji barefoot and shirtless in nothing but hakama and a famous Kuchiki kimono, hanging like a cape, off his shoulders?

Those tattoos….

Byakuya wondered if he’d ever grow truly accustomed to them, reach some point in their relationship when his eyes weren’t constantly drawn to every muscle movement that made the dark lines flex or shift? 

He rather hoped not. 

Renji’s body would be exceptional, even without the tattoos. Their addition heightened… everything. Strong back muscles seemed that much broader with thick, dark lines. The slender taper of waist was that much more notable when twin lightning strikes followed every contour and quite literally pointed to perfect, pert, round ass--itself decorated, so as not to go unnoticed, unremarked, un-worshipped. The lines on legs and calves accentuated Renji’s already prodigious height. Those on his arms only served to highlight bulging muscle, toned by hard work and discipline.

Once there, the cycle started again...

Glancing coyly over his shoulder, Renji caught Byakuya’s stare and chuckled. “I thought I felt your eyes on me. Get your tongue back in your mouth, Kuchiki.”

“Mmm, only if you let me scrub your back while you shower.”

“Deal.”

#

Renji knew he’d stumbled into something between Byakuya and his aunt, but he didn’t know what--or how to ask about it. Or even if he should. Renji kind of never understood why she was still here--or even still alive. If it were down to him… ah, to be honest, Renji had no stomach for the murder of old women, either, but still. Couldn’t she be banished or something?

But right now Byakuya was giving him that look--the hungry, needful look, and Renji did not want to derail any of that with talk about politics. Especially with Byakuya walking toward him, completely naked. The heat of the pool flushed his body. Sweat dotted flesh, making taut muscles shine as though oiled. That black hair like spilled ink, hanging loose, uncombed… wild. Every stride, powerful and confident… ugh, fuck it, look at him: so godsdamn peerless.

Despite the heat of the sento, Renji felt himself responding, getting aroused.

Jeez, down, boy! Hadn’t they just done this? 

Ah, but Renji could never get enough of Byakuya. Not ever. It wasn’t just his beauty either--though there was no denying that was a big part of it. It was the man underneath, the one no one else saw, ever. Finding that person, seeing bits of him in unguarded moments… that was who Renji was chasing now. Used to be, Renji was after Byakuya’s strength, trying to catch up to his prowess, to be able to physically surpass him. Now what Renji was after was that hidden heart. He wanted to be the one--the only one--to be trusted with that secret. He wanted to be the one that surprised a smile out of him, that made him laugh.

The one Byakuya loved, all the way--no masks, no stupid traditions holding him back, nothing.

Renji kind of thought that maybe if he got that, he’d even defeat Hisana. 

Byakuya stopped his approach. He was close enough to touch, close enough that to look Renji in the eye he tilted his head. “You’ve got your thinking face on.”

Yeah, I was thinking about your dead wife, did not seem like a good start, so Renji shrugged and said, “You’re….” beautiful? Handsome? “...powerful. I was captivated.”

“Powerful?” Byakuya’s thin lips quirked into a soft smile for a moment before fading back to neutral. A hand reached out to rest against the center of Renji’s chest. The touch was light, undemanding, but very intimate. “I was thinking the same about you.”

“Yeah?” Renji smiled wolfishly. Taking Byakuya’s hand, Renji brought it to his mouth. First, he placed a soft kiss on the palm, then a playful lick along the contours of callouses forged by centuries of swordplay. It was one of Renji’s favorite things--that a man otherwise so regal and pristine had hands exactly the same as his. Perhaps not as rough, but built the same, from the same profession.

When Renji moved to suck on finger, provocatively, Byakuya’s expression didn’t change, but his hip shifted a little closer and he sucked in an almost imperceptible breath. “Renji,” he admonished. “Not here.”

Letting Byakuya’s finger slip from his mouth, Renji quirked an eyebrow. They’d had sex in the showers before. “Why not?”

Byakuya’s grip tightened on Renji’s hand to an almost crushing force and he pulled Renji closer, their faces almost touching, and whispered, “Because I want to fuck you.”

Renji’s breath hitched a little as a shiver of excitement prickled his skin. His voice came out low and ready, “Oh. Yeah, that’d be good.”

But where were they going to go? Getting all the way back to the master bedroom was do-able, but the number of servants Renji had run into on the way over had been unreal. It was almost as bad as it had been right before Byakuya’s birthday, with people running around everywhere. 

Plus, Renji only had his hakama. He wasn’t sure what Byakuya had, but it’d be really obvious what they were up to if the two of them went scampering off to the bedroom half-dressed. Huh. Maybe Byakuya didn’t care about that anymore? There’d been a whole lot of ‘beloved’s lately.

“I have… a hidden cache in the stables.”

“What?” Renji blinked. Byakuya could not actually be talking about the stables--as in where the whole infamous stableboy incident went down, could he?

Color flushed Byakuya’s cheeks and he looked away, unable to hold Renji’s gaze. “Most things were taken from me, but there may be a few small things, things we would need, still hidden.”

“You talking about a hundred-year old lube?”

Byakuya gave Renji a sharp glance, but then softened to a little grimace. “Basically. Though we’re not talking about some squeeze tube from the Human World. What I procured back then was the very finest. It will not be soured by time.”

Renji wondered if it was the same stuff that smelled of sandalwood that he’d found in the jade container in Byakuya’s washroom all that time ago. “Sounds good to me,” Renji decided. “I’ve always wanted to ‘roll in the hay’”

Byakuya had taken his hand again at his nod, and led them towards the door. He turned to give Renji a look over his shoulder, “Surely, you’ve had sex in the rough?”

Renji shook his head. “‘Surely’? No, how about not. I kind of had other things on my mind in Inuzuri, like survival; Academy frowned on that sort of extracurricular stuff, and besides, people had dorm rooms; and in the Eleventh… well, okay, I might have had sex in some weird places, but I’m pretty sure you’re the only guy around rich enough to have actual horses in an actual stable with actual hay to roll around in.”

Byakuya took this in with a little frown, and led them to the door. Sliding it open, he glanced around, almost in a comical pantomime of checking to see if the coast was clear. Satisfied it was, he said, “It’s a short shunpo, but you’ll have to trust me to lead you. It’s not a straight shot.”

“Heh,” Renji smiled. “When have I had trouble letting you lead?”

Byakuya gave him a skeptical look.

“What?” Renji honestly thought that he mostly…. “Oh, right, ‘willful.’ I’ll do my best.” 

In a second, they had streaked across the garden. With one pause to change directions, they circled the cherry orchard. Straight and fast hadn’t been hard, but for this stretch Renji pretended he was on the back of a motorcycle, letting himself be moved into whichever direction Byakuya shifted. Barefoot and naked was tricky on top of all that, but they managed to come to a stop in front of the stable without incident.

_This is it_ , Renji thought, _the scene of the ‘crime.’_

For a part of the Kuchiki estate, the stables were a simple affair. The rough-hewn wood wouldn’t look out of place in the Rukongai, but, instead of simple grass thatch, the roof was clay tile. The dry scent of freshly cut hay covered a subtle, but persistent undercurrent of horse manure. Yet, it wasn’t an unpleasant smell--just sort of rural. The smell put Renji in mind of the farmlands he and Rukia had passed through on their way to Academy. 

Byakuya still holding Renji’s hand, they stepped into the cool, darkened interior. There were several warhorses in stalls. One in particular seemed to be entirely white, almost ghostly, and it nickered at the two naked men walking by. Renji tried to imagine Byakuya astride the pure white horse, in full armor--or maybe with a bow?--but failed. It was so rare that he ever saw anyone riding horses. Ever.

Byakuya let go of Renji’s hand and went in search of his secret cache.

Renji stood on the hard-packed dirt floor and marveled. Of everything, this was possibly the biggest demonstration of just how astronomically rich the Kuchiki were: seven warhorses, with literally nothing to do, but be well-cared for. All the palaces in the world paled in comparison to this. It was so many things all at once: power, wealth, tradition.... Power because, like silk, only the shinigami-class were allowed them. Tradition, because they symbolized the kinds of ancient wars so old they existed only in legend. Plus, if these horses were used at all today, it was for mounted archery--yabusame--the kind of sport that oozed history. Wealth, of course, because who besides a True First could afford one, much less seven?

“You actually know how to ride these things?” Renji asked, his gaze still being held by the milk-white warhorse. 

“I haven’t had time for it lately, but, yes, of course,” Byakuya murmured from somewhere behind Renji. “Grandfather insisted I master yabusame along with all the other martial arts.”

“Because we were totally gonna ride in on horses against Aizen in Hueco Mundo.”

“Mmmm,” Byakuya agreed. “Well, he certainly would have been surprised, if we had.”

That made Renji chuckle and then he sucked in a breath in surprise as Byakuya slipped his arms around Renji’s waist. A soft kiss graced Renji’s shoulder; cool, naked skin grazed against his own; and a voice in his ear breathed: “Come see my adolescent folly.”

Renji was a little surprised Byakuya was willing to share this with him. The whole ‘stable boy’ incident was such a festering wound, a source of so much shame. Renji didn’t know much about the actual incident, only that it had ended with Byakuya banished to some distant relative’s place in order to--what? ‘Straighten him out’? Un-kink him?

Well, that certainly hadn’t worked. It had only driven desires into deep repression.

Squatting beside where Byakuya knelt, Renji peered down at a dirty recess beneath a pried open floorboard. Inside, was a small jade jar. It was so much like the one Renji had found in Byakuya’s bedroom all those months ago, that he half-expected to be able to smell the sandalwood-scented lube from here. 

The only other thing inside was a long, stiff muchi, a horsewhip--a wicked looking thing made of variegated bamboo. The fact that it was secreted here with the lube, made Renji’s stomach tighten a little. This was the kind of tool you’d beat an animal with. It didn’t look ‘fun’ to Renji at all. 

It suddenly occurred to Renji that he didn’t actually know how things had gone down with the infamous stableboy. Renji had always presumed consent. But, what the fuck? Who in their right mind consented to be hit with a thing like that? 

He glanced at Byakuya. Byakuya stared down at the equipment thoughtfully… regretfully? Renji couldn’t be sure. His face was impassive, as usual. But, his cock twitched a little, as though aroused by the memory or the sight of it.

“Uh…” The last thing Renji wanted to do was trigger Byakuya’s shame, but no way was he interested in getting a beating. That was not sexy. Not to Renji, anyway. Maybe for someone else, someone who hadn’t been publically--and privately--beaten often enough growing up. “Sorry, lover, but ‘ikebana.’ ‘Ichigo.’ Hard no, okay?”

Byakuya sucked in a breath. He glared at Renji as if deeply offended. “I would never hit you with this.”

Okay, Renji was confused. “What’s it doing in here with the lube then?”

Byakuya’s eyes slid away, guiltily. He breathed shallowly, as if needing to build up courage before speaking. “It’s here as a reminder, I suppose.”

Renji waited for Byakuya to tell more of the story. He desperately wanted to ask, but Renji was afraid that screaming ‘What the actual hell, Byakuya? Did you beat some boy within an inch of his life and then fuck him? That’s really not okay!’ would not be constructive, to say the least. 

Besides, Renji had no idea if that was what happened. Maybe Byakuya had just used the horsewhip as a playful threat. Byakuya had been deeply upset at the idea of using it on Renji, so maybe he’d never really intended to use it on the stableboy either. Maybe that’s why he was so upset about the whole thing--that people thought he was capable of such a thing.

Who knew?

Well. Byakuya did, but so far he wasn’t talking about it. 

“Your silence isn’t exactly reassuring,” Renji said softly, carefully. “You going to tell me what happened with… that?” He gestured towards the horsewhip. “Why it’s there to remind you?”

Letting out a sigh, Byakuya met Renji’s eyes. “If I do, we’re not going to have sex. I’d really wanted to have sex.”

Renji chuckled. “You don’t really believe that. You knew that thing was there, yet you brought me here.” Arranging himself to sit cross-legged across from Byakuya, Renji put on an exaggerated ‘listening’ face. “You must have wanted to confess. So let’s hear the whole, ugly thing. Then, afterwards, we can have tons of hot sex and make better memories here. Which is also something you clearly wanted or you wouldn’t have suggested the barn.”

Byakuya grunted. “It seems you know me better than I do myself.”

Nodding, Renji put a gentle hand on Byakuya’s knee. “You don’t have to tell me, but--well, I dunno if this makes things easier or harder for you, but, right now, I’m kind of assuming the worst. Anything short of that is going to seem pretty good.”

“That?” Byakuya held Renji’s gaze. His voice was so emotionless, he could have been asking about the weather or for a report on the division. “What, pray tell, is that which you are imagining?”

Renji’s lips went thin. He didn’t want to be the one to say it, it seemed unfair, making him be the one to have to speak the ugly stuff aloud, but maybe that was the only way it’d come out. “Fine. ‘That’ is you tying up some poor sod against his will, beating him bloody, and then raping him, I guess. That’s the worst possible scenario I’ve got in my head. You got something worse than that?”

Byakuya’s eyes closed and he seemed to let out a breath he’d been holding. “Rest assured, the truth is no worse than that. I did not beat him bloody, however. That’s difficult to do, even with a tool such as that.” Byakuya opened his eyes, but turned his head away. He seemed to be staring at a particular spot in the stable, as though picturing the scene. “But, I hurt him. I hurt him far more than I should have because it gave me such… unexpected... pleasure.” 

No mention of consent. No mention of anything beyond the beating.

Byakuya’s cheeks were beet red. It was clear he still felt a deep and abiding sense of shame. But, the whole story still wasn’t entirely clear to Renji. Without mention of sexual activity, Renji wasn’t sure how it had all started. Byakuya was the boss so… what? Was this just some beating of a servant for an infraction that went too hard, too long? At what point did they get interrupted? What part of this--beyond Byakuya’s confessed arousal--was even sexual? But, if the event wasn’t sexual, why was the lube here? Why was there even a hidden cache? Did they do this more than once? Or… did Byakuya do this with more than one person?

When it was clear that Byakuya wasn’t going to volunteer anything more without prompting, Renji cleared his throat. “Why do you have a jar of lube here?”

Byakuya blinked out of his reverie to look at Renji in confusion. “What?”

“Well, you have this hidey-hole with a horsewhip and lube in it. You beat this guy and you say that it surprised you that you got hard, so… why would you have a jar of lube handy?”

“Because it was premeditated,” Byakuya said without hesitation. His lips made a thin line of disgust before he spat out the rest. “You’ve met my family, Renji. Servants being beaten was hardly something I’d never seen before. I was already living with the shame that watching someone stripped and beaten turned me on, aroused me. I had fevered fantasies of that which you suggested. I was going to make them come true. I knew I had the power over--that I could take what I wanted, with little to no consequences. And… maybe I would have completed my fantasy, had I not been interrupted.”

Renji looked at the hidey-hole again, struggling to put all the pieces together. “So… the thing that was interrupted was just a beating. Did your grandfather even know this was a sexual thing for you?”

“He suspected,” Byakuya said. His eyes studied his hands, which he folded primly in his lap. His back was straight and stiff, as he nodded to the hidey-hole. “Having removed the whip, I left the evidence of my intent plainly visible. Even without that, it was clear that I had no good reason to be punishing the stable boy--at least none that would have spared him his life. I could have said that he was the one who offered sex, had the lube hidden with nefarious intent, but that would have ended his life. Though I was more that willing to misuse him, I would not see him executed unreasonably.”

Renji managed to hold back a derisive snort. But only barely.

Byakuya must have sensed his reaction, because he glanced up, catching Renji’s gaze in his own. “I understand the irony, Renji. But there are these lines… and I’m learning where to draw them, better and better. At the time... “ he shook his head in despair. “I had so few. And…” he looked at Renji again, helplessly, “What I did have, I tended to only apply to my own rank.”

Even though Byakuya seemed to struggle to confess this particular aspect of the whole sordid affair, none of this was really news. Renji already knew that a lot of Byakuya’s consent issues boiled down to rank and social class. They’d been struggling with that from the start, after all. They still struggled with it.

But, Byakuya’s eyes were wide and anxious, so Renji squeezed Byakuya’s thigh and gave him an encouraging smile. “Hey, you’re working on it. That’s the important thing.”

Byakuya put a hand over Renji’s, his body relaxing a little.

Meanwhile, Renji’s own skin crawled a little.

The thing that struck Renji in this whole confession was the extent to which Byakuya seemed to be a true sadist. It had never occurred to Renji to wonder how Byakuya had discovered he was into other people’s pain, and he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about how simple and straight-forward the answer was. 

He’d known Byakuya was into the trappings--all the bondage and what not, the costuming, the play. But… this was….

Thing was, Renji had seen people beaten, too. 

It didn’t do much for him, except make him angry--often at his own helplessness to intervene. To be fair, he was always too close to these things. If it wasn’t his friends in trouble, then it was someone he knew, or someone he automatically sympathized with because no one liked the magistrates or the yakuza thugs.

It was hard for him to think of that kind of thing as sexually exciting, though. 

Renji wasn’t wired that way. In a lot of ways this was their biggest hurdle as a couple--Renji had warmed up to the idea that he liked certain situations where he was humiliated, certain moments when he was helpless. Little things that he worked up to including in the sexual play.

Getting beaten up was actually the least sexy thing Renji could think of. In fact, he hated it. He hated it so much, he spent most of his free hours training with Zabimaru so it wouldn’t happen ever again. In many ways, Zabimaru’s destructive power was in direct response to Renji’s sense of never wanting to be helpless again.

When Byakuya talked about his demon, he didn’t mean Senbonzakura. He meant this thing--this part of him that lit up at someone’s suffering. 

“No wonder your demon is so hard to control,” Renji said. “You actually have to walk away from something you like. Me, I can just let my demon go--sit back and revel in the carnage. I mean, it’s not good when mine gets out, but it’s socially acceptable for a soldier to go berserk and kill everything in sight. Mine is a strength I wanted; yours is a desire you didn’t necessarily ask for.”

“I didn’t ask for it,” Byakuya repeated, agreeing. “And nothing could rid me of it. I thought I was alone in this perversion. I thought it was my curse.” He let out a little breath. “And maybe it would have been if I hadn’t been interrupted. If I had… followed through with everything I had planned. If there had been no consequences, I might have become a demon.” Then, he gave Renji another little wounded glance. “Or rather, more of one than I already am.”

That was a hell of an admission. Renji still wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that Byakuya’s sadism was more than just the trappings of pain, but hearing this was good. There had been a lot of ‘I’m sorry’s from Byakuya, but this felt like a bigger step forward, like really getting to the heart of change…?

Renji wasn’t sure exactly. 

Hei knew he should say, ‘you’re not that bad,’ or something of the sort, but that would be a lie. Byakuya’s demon had been the source of so much pain between them. But, that didn’t mean that Renji didn’t have sympathy. 

Wordlessly, he leaned forward and pulled Byakuya into a hug.

Renji mentally prepared himself for Byakuya to stiffen up and to push out, but that didn’t happen. Instead, Byakuya collapsed against Renji’s body, limp and boneless. His head fell against Renji’s shoulder and he breathed out a long, slow breath. His arms cautiously encircled Renji’s waist and he held on.

Byakuya’s reaction was such a surprise that Renji was sure he made a gasp, but then he smiled. Tightening his grip slightly, he started kissing Byakuya’s hair, burying his nose deep into that smell he so adored. Whenever he found skin, Renji nibbled playfully, encouragingly.

Against his shoulder, Byakuya sighed again, this time with a hint of faux exasperation. “You can’t seriously want me after that confession.”

“Heh,” Renji snorted. “I want you all the time.”

Byakuya lifted his head and smiled. Then, they kissed.

**Author's Note:**

> My gods, a new installment. I bet y'all thought I'd died. (Actually, my brother-in-law did, but that's another story.) I can't say I'm back, but at least this installment is a longer one. I may just be slower now, alas. My deepest apologies, and thank you for your continued patience.
> 
> Oh, hey, and look at this. I finally got the boys to almost, really TALK. It only took, what, YEARS??? :-)


End file.
